A Stranger's Wife Page 8

  The tango forgotten, Jake held his breath, waiting.

  She said, “Jake, this isn’t a good idea. I’m really too tired to dance.”

  Disappointment and anger surged through him then, and before he could contain it his fingers were digging deeply into the soft flesh of her back, holding her in a viselike embrace that expressed more power than passion. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and her eyes widened in shocked surprise.

  He said harshly, “What if I were to use you the way you’ve used me all these months, Rhea? You know damn well I want you—and after all, you are still my wife. Maybe I’m tired of this platonic bunk.”

  “Jake, please let go of me.” He felt a tremor pass through her body, but her gaze was level and her voice calm, with an edge that suggested that she would fight if he stepped out of line. “I’m too exhausted to either dance or argue with you tonight.”

  He didn’t release her. “Did you really expect me to remain indifferent to your sweetly seductive act of the last couple of days, Rhea?”

  “I didn’t mean to be seductive...I just wanted us to try to get along.”

  “Sure you did. Now tell me, who did you call from the hospital? And who did you call from St. Maarten? Don’t look so surprised, or so innocent. When I interrupted the hospital call, I decided to check to see if you made any calls from the island. You called southern California several times. Since Sloan was up north in San Francisco last I heard, I have to assume there’s a new man in your life.”

  “No!” The word was wrenched from her like a cry of pain.

  An ominous possibility flashed into Jake’s mind. Rhea genuinely had tried this past couple of days to make amends. She obviously wanted to stall any discussion about the divorce. What if one of her lovers were blackmailing her?

  Jake finally relaxed his grip slightly. Maybe he would adopt a wait-and-see attitude while keeping tabs on her bank accounts until they were legally separated.

  THE TELEPHONE RANG. Grateful for the distraction, Meg twisted free and almost dived to answer the call. Jake remained motionless, his gaze following her.

  “Hello,” Meg said. Her voice sounded tense, slightly hoarse.

  Rhea’s voice whispered over the line. “I know he’s there with you. I’m down on the beach. Get down here as soon as you can—I’m getting the damn sand in my shoes.”

  Meg put the phone down, relief washing over her.

  “Another hang-up?” Jake asked grimly.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s strange. Other than a maid coming over to clean, this place hasn’t been occupied for almost two years.”

  “Probably wrong numbers.”

  His face was a mask. “If you want to call somebody, Rhea, go ahead. I’m beyond caring.”

  “I don’t need to call anybody,” Meg said miserably, wishing she could shed the cloak of Rhea’s misdeeds and tell him that she understood why he had lost his temper, and that he deserved love and loyalty and truth. But then, who was she to talk about truth? She was living a lie, and if she was hurt by it, then it served her right.

  Jake said, “I’m sorry the tango degenerated into something akin to an adagio dance. I apologize for manhandling you.”

  “You’ve been under strain. I understand.”

  Huxley ambled into the room and nuzzled Meg’s leg.

  She said, “He probably should go outside for a while.”

  “I’ll take him,” Jake said.

  “No, please!” Meg said quickly, visions of Jake descending to the beach and running into Rhea flashing before her eyes. “I mean, you’ve been working all day and didn’t sleep last night. Let me take him.”

  Huxley wagged his tail, his tongue lolling.

  “We can both go,” Jake said. “It’s dark and you’re not familiar with the cliff steps.”

  “I don’t have to go down to the beach to take him for a walk.”

  Jake gave her the puzzled look that indicated she had said something odd again. “Rhea, the only alternative is the Coast Highway—all kinds of traffic and no sidewalk. Had you forgotten?”

  So that’s why Rhea wanted to meet on the beach. Meg murmured, “Oh, yes, of course.”

  “He doesn’t need to go for a walk,” Jake said. “I’ll just take him out into the backyard to do the necessary.”

  “All right. I think I’ll get ready for bed,” Meg said, giving an elaborate yawn. “I’ll leave the master bedroom for you.”

  The hard glint returned to his eyes. “Very well, I’ll say good-night. Tomorrow, Rhea, we decide how to extricate ourselves from this farce of a marriage. Living like brother and sister may be easy for you, but it’s hell for me.”

  “Tomorrow, Jake, I promise.”

  He said, “Come on, Huxley.”

  “Good night, Jake,” Meg said, a catch in her voice.

  Goodbye, Jake.

  After he and the Doberman went outside, Meg ran to the bedroom farthest from the master bedroom, where she had left the luggage provided by Rhea. She changed into one of Rhea’s pantsuits and slipped the kidskin flats under the bed, then pulled back the duvet and lay down.

  She heard Jake coming back into the house, then water running. Finally there was only the roar of the incoming tide on the beach below. Remembering Rhea’s chilling statement that Jake had beaten her, Meg thought of the savage way Jake had held her, and of his taunting threats. Why hadn’t she felt frightened of him? Was it because on some level she was sure that he wouldn’t hurt her? Other more complex reasons for her lack of fear wouldn’t bear close examination.

  After a while fatigue crept from her body to her mind and she longed to close her eyes and drift off to sleep to the sound of the surf. She had to fight to stay awake.

  When half an hour without any sound from Jake had passed, she got up, picked up the shoes and tiptoed from the room.

  Huxley was sprawled in front of her bedroom door. He raised his head and thumped his tail.

  “Stay,” Meg whispered, patting his head. “Good boy, stay.”

  The Doberman got up, stretched, then followed her to the French doors leading to the patio.

  “No! Stay,” she whispered sternly, pointing to the floor.

  He wagged his tail and grinned.

  She sighed. Rhea was going to love this. Huxley would have to accompany her. He was liable to make a fuss and wake Jake if she tried to leave without him. She grabbed his leash.

  Easing open the door, Meg stepped outside into the cool night air and smelled the fresh tang of brine. The Doberman followed, and she snapped his leash onto his collar.

  A half-moon sailed in and out of the clouds, briefly illuminating the cliff steps and the beach below. She wished she had a flashlight. Pausing at the top of the steps, she glanced back at the house. No lights. So far, so good.

  Waiting for the moonlight to paint her way down the cliff, she wondered what would happen in the morning when Jake and Rhea were reunited. She didn’t want to think about her own awakening tomorrow. Back to the little rented house and thrift-shop furniture, back to work, back to the endless bills, back to wondering where Hal was, back to...being without Jake’s dynamic presence. Oh, Rhea, how can you not know how lucky you are?

  The moon reappeared, and she started down the steps. Huxley stayed at her side, like a gentleman. When she stopped, he stopped. She held on to the wooden handrail, and after a minute gained confidence that her feet could find the stairs hewn into the cliff even when the moon hid behind the clouds.

  She could see the dark outlines of rocks and the phosphorescent glow of the breakers, but the cove seemed to be deserted. Had Rhea tired of waiting?

  Feeling sand under her feet, Meg moved away from the shadow of the cliff and stood in a pool of moonlight. Scanning the beach, she saw that the rocks formed a jagged barrier at the water’s edge.

  At her side Huxley suddenly growled and flattened his ears. Meg laid her hand reassuringly on the dog’s head.

  A silhouette detached itself from the dark r
ocks, moved toward her across the moon-bleached sand. When Rhea was close enough to be heard over the sound of the surf, she said, “It took you long enough. What the hell is that mutt doing with you?”

  To Meg’s ears, the voice sounded so different from her own that she asked tentatively, “Mrs. Chastain?”

  “Who were you expecting? Your fairy godmother?” The silhouette took a few steps toward her.

  Huxley growled again. Meg tightened her grip on his leash. “It’s all right, Huxley. Good boy, good dog, down. Down.”

  He sat down obediently but his ears twitched and his distrust rumbled deep in his throat.

  “How does it feel to look at a mirror image?” Rhea asked.

  Meg realized that she was standing with the moonlight illuminating her face, but Rhea was still a silhouette.

  “I can’t see you very well. I’m sorry I had to bring Huxley. I was afraid he’d bark and wake your husband if I left him.” Meg explained quickly about Carmelita’s emergency trip to Mexico, passing along Jake’s instructions to call Mason and have him send a maid over to Jessica’s house.

  Rhea was still staring at her. “They say we all have a double somewhere on earth. The likeness is uncanny. No wonder you fooled everybody. How did you like being me?” Rhea kept a respectable distance between herself and Huxley.

  “It was interesting.”

  “Especially when Jake unexpectedly showed up.”

  “Yes.”

  “But he didn’t challenge you? He really thought you were me?”

  “I think he was puzzled a few times, but no, he didn’t challenge me.”

  “Mike Aragon said you hadn’t slept with Jake. I find that hard to believe, knowing Jake,” Rhea said.

  “Believe it, because it’s true. I wouldn’t sleep with another woman’s husband. I would have told him the truth if it had come to that, but it didn’t. As you very well know, you two were on the brink of divorce before he flew to Europe. When he appeared in St. Maarten he suggested we maintain an appearance of marital harmony, for the sake of the hotel guests and staff.”

  “And what about when you were alone?”

  “I told him we should just try being platonic friends until we got home and could talk over our problems. I think he...he may want a reconciliation, Mrs. Chastain.”

  “Call me Rhea, for pity’s sake. Mrs. Chastain makes me sound like his mother. So he wants a reconciliation, does he?”

  Meg was doubtful, in view of this evening’s ultimatum, but for Jake’s sake, she wanted Rhea to return to him in a conciliatory mood. “I hope you two can patch things up.”

  “Do you, now.”

  “Yes. I mean that sincerely. Your husband seems to be a very fine man.”

  “Did Aragon have any luck finding your husband?”

  Meg shifted her feet in the sand. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, I’ll probably need your services again soon, so we can keep Aragon on retainer. Will you be available?”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “It would just be for some function I’d prefer to skip—no travel to speak of and no Jake to contend with.”

  “No, I can’t do it again. I feel like a criminal.”

  “Okay. We can talk about it again later on. Maybe you’ll change your mind. Look, I’ve rented a white Pontiac Sun-bird for you to drive home. It’s parked a couple of blocks from the house.”

  “Thank you.”

  Huxley was still growling, deep in his throat, and he pawed the sand, jerking on his collar as he tried to lunge in Rhea’s direction—although he seemed more perturbed by the waves pounding the rocks behind her.

  “You’ll have to take the dog with you,” Rhea said. “That mutt will tear me limb from limb if he gets half a chance.”

  “I can’t do that! What will Jake say when he finds him missing?”

  “You’re not too quick on your feet, are you, Meg? Tomorrow you drive the mutt to the Laguna animal shelter. I’ll tell Jake he got out and we should check to see if he’s in the shelter. Jake can pick him up and take him to Jessica’s house. I’ll have a maid over there by then to take care of him.”

  Meg fondled Huxley’s head. “All right, I can do that. But you should know that Huxley and I seemed to hit it off, and Jake knows that. He might bring him back here.”

  “That’s okay. By that time I won’t be here, I’ll be home. I’ve no intention of staying in the beach house. It’s way too primitive for my taste.”

  So much for their reconciliation, Meg thought, not wanting to imagine Jake’s disappointment when his wife abruptly changed her mind about staying with him at the beach until his mother left the hospital.

  “If you walk to the far side of the cove you’ll find a ramp leading up to the Coast Highway. It’s narrow and overgrown with bougainvillea near the top, but you can get through.” Rhea tossed a set of keys to her.

  Meg grabbed for them but missed, and they fell to the sand. By the time she found the keys, Rhea was already climbing the steps to the house. Meg had never really had a good look at her.

  Halfway across the sand Meg glanced back over her shoulder, an uneasy prickle on the back of her neck telling her someone else was watching. But the beach appeared to be deserted and the only movement was of shadows flitting over the silvered sand as clouds scudded across the moon.

  When she reached the Coast Highway, Meg realized she hadn’t asked which direction to go to find the rental car. She walked three blocks south but didn’t find a Sun bird, so turned back and retraced her steps. Huxley was moderately well-behaved.

  The Sun bird was parked close to a dense privet hedge, and the Doberman sniffed both the bushes and the car suspiciously as Meg unlocked the back door. The dog seemed particularly interested in the trunk and resisted her tug on his leash when she tried to get him into the car.

  “Come on, boy, please,” she pleaded, but Huxley whined and sniffed the trunk again.

  “All right, I’ll see what it is that’s bothering you.” She had to wrestle privet branches out of the way in order to unlock the trunk.

  Inside were four red-and-yellow gasoline cans. Puzzled, she picked up one of the cans and shook it. It was empty. As were the others.

  At the same instant she heard the shriek of sirens.

  She dropped the can and slammed the trunk shut as a fire engine hurtled past. Turning her head, she saw an orange glow flickering above the trees.

  Then she was running, fear grinding in her throat, back to the beach house, knowing long before she reached it that it would be in flames.

  Chapter Ten

  Firefighters had completely blocked off the area around the house with their equipment. A police officer was attempting to keep traffic moving as motorists slowed down to view the fiery spectacle. Several neighbors, jostling to get closer, were being held back by a fire marshal.

  Did Jake get out in time? Where is Rhea? Desperate with heart-stopping fear for their safety, Meg tried to break through the crowd and still keep Huxley under control.

  Breathlessly she asked a man standing nearby, “Did they get the people out safely?”

  “No one lived there. The place belongs to Jake Chastain but he hasn’t used it since he got married. His people keep it in order, but they wouldn’t be there this time of night.”

  “No!” Meg screamed the word. “He was there. Please, let me through.” But her plea was lost in the din of sirens as a second fire engine arrived and the crew chief shouted orders.

  “Hey, lady!” the fire marshal yelled at her. “Get that dog out of here.”

  “Did you get the owners out of the house?” she shouted back.

  But the marshal had moved away.

  Meg looked around frantically. If Jake and Rhea had escaped in time, surely they would be out here somewhere? There was no sign of them, but she could see Jake’s car was still parked on the driveway.

  Catching a glimpse of a police officer heading her way, Meg hastily yanked Huxley’s leash, pulling him away from
the onlookers.

  She ran back to the ramp leading to the beach, skidding down the damp concrete in her haste to reach the cove below the house, hoping the wooden handrail on the cliff steps hadn’t caught fire.

  But the high tide was now crashing onto the foot of the ramp and all the sand was under water. Huxley drew back in alarm, barking at the incoming waves.

  “Okay, boy, settle down.” She patted his head, then slipped his leash around the handrail and fastened it. “Wait here. Stay. Good boy, stay.”

  Slipping off her shoes, she plunged into the churning water. It was deep enough to swirl around her waist, and she felt the strong pull of a rip current.

  Cautiously she made her way along the cliff face, bracing herself against the rocks as the waves broke..

  She was soon breathless from struggling against the current and breaking surf, her hands raw from clutching the wet rocks to stay on her feet as the foaming breakers smashed into her like icy shards of glass. Then between waves she caught a glimpse of the cliff steps, lit by the flickering firelight from above, and the sight gave her strength to keep going.

  Another wave slammed into her as she reached the steps and she was almost swept away, but managed to reach out and grab the handrail. Pulling herself free of the pull of the water, she looked up to see a tall silhouette standing near the top of the cliff steps. Jake!

  She scrambled up the steps, too breathless to call his name.

  He turned just before she reached him. He’d slung a raincoat over his shoulders and it slipped as she flung herself into his arms and clung to him. Above their heads the crackle of flames and sickening crunch of collapsing timbers told their own story.

  “Rhea,” Jake breathed against her hair. “Thank God! I nearly went crazy when I couldn’t find you in the house. Where were you?”